I feel the need to preface this with the disclaimer that it was all a huge misunderstanding such as happens, especially in Illinois. (insert facepalm here)
Arrested … wait!What!?
It was January 2008.
I had a job that required my truck driving skills. The main reason that
I was hired was because I had a CDL – commercial drivers license, Class A –
what you need to drive the big rigs.
That’s right. I have a CDL-A license and, briefly, drove a
big rig. It was a Freightliner M-Class, it was red, it was a nice, heated
sleeper, with less than 30,000 miles on it when it was assigned to me. That means it was pretty new by trucking industry
standards. There are reasons why I quit
driving. There are things that most
people don’t know and truly don’t want to know about the life of a truck
driver. But I digress…
January 2008. I have
an upcoming assignment to go and work in Iowa with my supervisor, and I will be
expected to drive the rig. My supervisor
does not have a CDL, so he cannot move the vehicle.
Driving home, the night before the Iowa assignment, I was a
little wound up about the trip that was to begin bright and early the next
morning. I was distracted. Despite the fact that I knew the speed limit
changes on the rural route I took to get the 40 miles home from the office…. I
was speeding. I had failed to slow my car down from 55mph to 45mph – the required
speed for the stretch of road I had entered.
Wouldn’t you know it – the locals had complained about the people who
thought it was just fine to go as fast as they pleased on a country road. So, I was stopped by a Deputy County police
officer.
Damn. Well, okay, here’s my license. I was thinking that this would be easy enough,
the nice officer would go back to his squad car and look my drivers license
over… and let me think about paying more attention. But no.
Not really. He did take my
license to his squad car all right, and he called it in, and probably checked
to see who my license plate was registered to.
Then he came back to my car.
He was holding my driver’s license at arm’s length – AWAY from
me – as he told me that I was driving on an invalid license. Invalid license? I actually laughed out loud,
right in his face. “Officer that license
is valid all right. I have been using it to drive up and down the East Coast, and
states mostly East of the Mississippi River, for the last couple of years.”
He took my license and went back to his squad car. I could see that he was talking on the radio,
and waiting for responses. Finally, he returned
to my car. “Ma’am, I have talked with my
Sergeant about this, and I am sorry, but I have to arrest you.”
About this time a flatbed tow truck arrived. Law enforcement in that county doesn’t waste
time, honestly.
I was told to just leave everything in the vehicle as long
as I had my wallet on me.
Apologizing the officer said he had to handcuff me. “Regulations
ma’am.” The process was done gently and
loosely, and he asked if I was comfortable as I got into the back of his squad
car.
Now this was feeling mighty surreal. Then again, life ought to be an adventure,
right? And since I am not the type to get angry with law enforcement, I took
this as a learning opportunity. Just sat in the back of the squad car thinking
about how weird life can be. I told the
nice officer that my brother-in-law had been a police officer, and I have a
nephew who was also in law enforcement.
He made an “mm-hmm” sound. I
asked how he had found this path in life, but he declined to answer. I thanked him, anyway, for being in law enforcement,
and shepherding the safety of others.
By this time we had arrived at the county courthouse and
jail facility.
Inside the building the cuffs were removed and I was
instructed to empty my pockets. There
was a lady officer to take my belongings, and as I watched she logged them on
an itemized list. Excusing myself I
reached into my bra to retrieve a small zippered wallet containing cash. I told
her there was money in it, and she asked me to take the money out and count it
for her. A little over $400 in “emergency”
cash, untouched for several years, just riding with me everyplace I went. She said, “ah, bail money. I will remember to
have you bail out before very long.”
Then I was escorted to a holding cell. In the cell were 2 “illegal” Mexican women,
and 1 little “white trash” gal about 20 years old. The 20-year-old immediately wanted to know
did I have enough money to bail both of us out.
Yes, um no, sweetie, I only have enough for me. I succeeded in not rolling my eyes at her as
she told me her tale of woe. She was wearing very tight skinny jeans, and a “hoochie-momma”
shirt – very revealing, with a jailhouse orange shirt over the top, because no
one wanted to see her almost naked bosom.
 |
This is what the jailor called a "hoochie mama" shirt.
Note the wide open side... |
There was a phone in the holding cell. Collect calls only. Now this was in the time when one might still
know a few phone numbers by heart. (thank God)
My first call was to my supervisor’s cell phone; and my second call, and
third call too. My supervisor got 3
lovely messages in a stern male voice informing him that: “This is the -------
County Jail. Suz---- Br---- is trying to reach you. Will you accept the call?" (The only thing I was allowed to say was my name. - The phone would play the
message it left on his phone each time – to my horror.) When that avenue did not pan out, I called
the next, and only other phone number in my memory at the time: my step-sister. True to her self she was at home at that hour,
it must have been 8:30 pm or later by that time. I told her where I was and that I didn’t
really have time to explain, but I was going need a ride, and someone to drive
my car after I bailed out –( which by this time I had been told would happen
shortly. Sweetheart that she is she got
one of her sons and they drove 60+ miles to meet me at the county towing
facility later.
The lady law enforcement person came to get me. I had go through the system – get photographed
and fingerprinted – which was interesting because they no longer used ink, but
a touch screen device. Then she called
me a cab.
The cab driver knew exactly where he was going. There is only tow truck service that county
uses. Arriving at the tow facility before my step-sister, I was so flustered
that I paid the cab driver with 2 twenties, for a $23.00 fare, and failed to
collect my change from him. God bless him,
I hope that dandy tip was helpful him somehow.
The tow guy was a decent enough fellow. Knowledgeable as you might expect he asked me
if I had towing on my car insurance. I
did. He kindly wrote the receipt ticket
as a “tow” so that I could get reimbursed for the $300. (The kindest thing about that night, along
with my step-sister and step-nephew.) I
then went and stood out in the road and waiting for a car to come along. I recognized the headlights coming into the
little town – it was my nephew’s car that I had sold to him. (A really fine 2003
Chevy Impala.) What a relief it was to
see them.
Now here’s a kind of funny bit: the tow guy had told me the
address where I could pick up my car. “It’s
in my mom’s driveway,” he said (to my shock), he then rattled off and address
and, “Third Avenue, go one block south and turn left.” Hahaha! My car was in his mom’s driveway! If
only I had known I could have simply gone there and taken the car! (I ALWAYS
have a spare car key on me.) But then I’d
have been in real trouble.
Now I will explain that this was all a HUGE misunderstanding,
courtesy of the State of Illinois, the truck driving school I went to. (those
dirty rats!)
PAY CLOSE ATTENTION TO THIS NEXT BIT:
You see, I went to truck school in Wisconsin. I lived in
Illinois. They set us up in little apartments for the 3 weeks of truck school –
establishing residence – in Wisconsin. At the end of truck school the DMV sends
out licensing staff to perform the road test from the school location, because
we need the semi Tractors and trailers to do the road test. (that is another story
of it’s own)
So, I took my road test in Wisconsin. They took us to the local DMV office to get
our CDLs – in Wisconsin. Because I lived
in Wisconsin for the past 3 weeks I was considered a resident of Wisconsin for
the purpose of obtaining my CDL license.
I SURRENDED MY former Illinois plain auto vehicle drivers license to Wisconsin,
because it’s illegal to have 2 drivers licenses in your possession, and it was
the only way they were going to give me the CDL.
Next the truck school personnel tell us, “when you return to
your home state go directly to the DMV and get a new license with your correct
address on it.” Right. The second day I was back in Illinois I went
to a DMV facility that would issue me a CDL license (not all of them did at
that time). I took the paper test, and surrendered
my 2 day old Wisconsin CDL license to the Illinois Secretary of State DMV.
BAM! THIS PERSON DOESN’T KNOW IT, BUT THEY DON’T HAVE A
LEGAL DRIVERS LICENSE.
WHAT?!! It’s
convoluted but I had surrendered my former Illinois license to Wisconsin, who they
were in no hurry to send those surrendered licenses back to their home states. Who even knew that they did that!
To sum it up:
I surrendered an Illinois driver’s license in Wisconsin.
Wisconsin issued me a new Wisconsin CDL driver’s license.
I returned to Illinois and quickly surrendered the Wisconsin
CDL in exchange for a new Illinois CDL.
Now here’s where it goes sideways: my former Illinois drivers license gets sent
to the Illinois Secretary of State office, MONTHS LATER. And the Illinois Secretary
of State office, in their infinite wisdom declares that this person does
NOT HAVE A VALID DRIVERS LICENSE henceforth.
Got that? Okay, a
year and a half LATER I get arrested in northern Illinois for driving on an “invalid”
license, that was not actually invalid.
Now, get ready for this: the Illinois Secretary of States
office KNOWS ALL ABOUT THIS!
Yes, the morning after my arrest my boss has had to come to
Crystal Lake from Rockford at 3:30 in the morning, to pick me up for our trip
to Iowa. This was NOT the original plan,
but at some wee hour of the morning he and I have agreed that I cannot drive myself
anyplace without a valid driver’s license. (both of us were actually afraid of
law enforcement catching us ACTUALLY doing something illegal)…
So on the way to Iowa, with Mark driving, at 8:00am I call
the Secretary of States office in Springfield Illinois. I explain my plight and
the lady says to me, “Oh. We know all about this.” (OMG!) and she tells me that
I will be perfectly okay to drive the CDL required vehicle because I have the
ticket – the one that says “invalid license” on it…. Because if Iowa law
enforcement calls to check it out they will be told what’s what. Okay, yeah, sure thing. The ONLY driving I do in Iowa that week is to
move the work CDL required vehicle about 10 miles to a different job site, and
then back the 10 miles to return to the original job.
What an experience!
Then I had to call the truck school and get documentation
from them…. And look up a bunch of other information to provide to the lawyer I
had to hire to get the arrest expunged from my record….. $906 dollars later…. By
the way: you don’t get bail money back! And no one I reached out to cared that
I was out $906 because the state of Illinois is stupid. (anyone who lives in Illinois
understands)
And Thank God for Mark, my supervisor, who fought for me to
keep my job because it was all a big (confusing) misunderstanding. And thanks to Christina, the other person I
worked with in Iowa for being my driver that week, other than when I had to
drive the CDL vehicle.
Also, many thanks to my step-sister and her son. Family.
Epilogue: law enforcement
had taken my first Illinois CDL the night of my arrest. I was told, several
times, that they had destroyed that “invalid” driver’s license. Several weeks after the court date I received
and envelope in the mail… it contained the NOT DESTROYED and not invalid driver’s
license. There I stood, like a true criminal, holding 2 driver’s licenses in my
hands…. THAT is illegal. (insert facepalm
here) Thanks a lot Illinois Secretary of
State Office.
....
...
..
.
